


On the Face of It

by JudyL



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen, Old West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25224964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudyL/pseuds/JudyL
Summary: Vin F&D Challenge: MaskOld West
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	On the Face of It

Seven sat around the table in the saloon. Cards shared out as requested, drinks at elbows. They laughed and chatted, cursed their fortune and called for more cards and drinks.

It was a typical evening in the small town, the seven peacekeepers gathered together at the end of the day to relax. Apparently all at ease with one another, trusting each other, friends, some might say. They were the embodiment of having a good time.

The gambler led the activities, smiling broadly as he dealt each hand. Laughing or groaning sympathetically as cards were revealed.

Even the dark-clad leader smiled more readily, if not as effusively as the gambler. His eyes watched the others in his group even as he scanned the rest of the crowd. A small ‘ha’ escaped his lips when he took the next hand.

The tracker, rumored part Indian, leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile on his lips regardless of the hand he was dealt. He watched the door and inspected any newcomers.

The boy and the mustached ladies man were loud and happy, doing most of the talking at the table. The younger of the two flipped his dark hair back and replaced the hat that had been on the floor more of the night than on the kid’s head. His taller friend pulled one of the saloon girls onto his lap as he laughed. Obviously, they were having a great night even if they didn’t win many hands between them.

The dark healer sipped at his drink, a surprising smile lit up his face occasionally. He watched the gambler closely as he dealt and elbowed the big preacher every time the gambler won.

The preacher, big and grizzled, grinned often. His eyes inspected the other six. From time to time the grin dimmed, but he recovered quickly.

Of course, it was all a façade, a mask of politeness among men who had only met a few weeks ago. Feelings were hidden, questions went unasked. Trust, beginning to blossom between some, was withheld from others.

Would it grow into true trust? True friendship? Only time would tell.

A man walked by, knocking the bowler off the youngest head. Protests from the kid received a derisive remark from the stranger and two of the others rose from their chairs. The hat was retrieved and an apology given.

The leader nodded to his oldest and newest friend and called for another bottle for the table. Cards flew and the healer won the biggest hand of the night. He beamed at the gambler and received a congratulatory nod.

The preacher stood and clapped both men on the back before taking his leave.

Another hand was offered, but declined. Perhaps tomorrow. The men left the table one by one until only the gambler remained, shuffling idly with only a polite smile on his face, should anyone look his way.

Masks provided protection against unwanted hurt. Yet, behind each one lay a glimmer of hope for what might be.


End file.
